191A: Hughie Graham

191A.1	 AS it befell upon one time,
	 About mid-summer of the year,
	 Every man was taxt of his crime,
	 For stealing the good Lord Bishop’s mare.
191A.2	 The good Lord Screw he sadled a horse,
	 And rid after this same scrime;
	 Before he did get over the moss,
	 There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime.
191A.3	 ‘Turn, O turn, thou false traytor,
	 Turn, and yield thyself unto me;
	 Thou hast stolen the Lord Bishops mare,
	 And now thou thinkest away to flee.’
191A.4	 ‘No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be!
	 Here is a broad sword by my side,
	 And if that thou canst conquer me,
	 The victory will soon be try’d.’
191A.5	 ‘I ner was afraid of a traytor bold,
	 Although thy name be Hugh in the Grime;
	 I’le make thee repent thy speeches foul,
	 If day and life but give me time.’
191A.6	 ‘Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw,
	 And deal your blows as fast as you can;
	 It will be try’d between me and you
	 Which of us two shall be the best man.’
191A.7	 Thus as they dealt their blows so free,
	 And both so bloody at that time,
	 Over the moss ten yeomen they see,
	 Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.
191A.8	 Sir Hugh set his back against a tree,
	 And then the men encompast him round;
	 His mickle sword from his hand did flee,
	 And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground.
191A.9	 Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken is
	 And brought back to Garlard town;
	 [Then cry’d] the good wives all in Garlard town,
	 ‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou ’st ner gang down.’
191A.10	 The good Lord Bishop is come to the town,
	 And on the bench is set so high;
	 And every man was taxt to his crime,
	 At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime.
191A.11	 ‘Here am I, thou false bishop,
	 Thy humours all to fulfill;
	 I do not think my fact so great
	 But thou mayst put it into thy own will.’
191A.12	 The quest of jury-men was calld,
	 The best that was in Garlard town;
	 Eleven of them spoke all in a breast,
	 ‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou ’st ner gang down.’
191A.13	 Then another questry-men was calld,
	 The best that was in Rumary;
	 Twelve of them spoke all in a breast,
	 ‘Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou’st now guilty.’
191A.14	 Then came down my good Lord Boles,
	 Falling down upon his knee:
	 ‘Five hundred peices of gold would I give,
	 To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me.’
191A.15	 ‘Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles,
	 And of your speeches set them by!
	 If there be eleven Grimes all of a name,
	 Then by my own honour they all should dye.’
191A.16	 Then came down my good Lady Ward,
	 Falling low upon her knee:
	 ‘Five hundred measures of gold I’le give,
	 To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to em.’
191A.17	 ‘Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward,
	 None of your proffers shall him buy!
	 For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name,
	 By my own honour they all should dye.’
191A.18	 Sir Hugh of the Grime’s condemnd to dye,
	 And of his friends he had no lack;
	 Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward,
	 His hands bound fast upon his back.
191A.19	 Then he lookt over his left shoulder,
	 To see whom he could see or spy;
	 Then was he aware of his father dear,
	 Came tearing his hair most pittifully.
191A.20	 ‘Peace, peace, my father dear,
	 And of your speeches set them by!
	 Though they have bereavd me of my life,
	 They cannot bereave me of heaven so high.’
191A.21	 He lookt over his right shoulder,
	 To see whom he could see or spye;
	 There was he aware of his mother dear,
	 Came tearing her hair most pittifully.
191A.22	 ‘Pray have me remembred to Peggy, my wife;
	 As she and I walkt over the moor,
	 She was the cause of [the loss of] my life,
	 And with the old bishop she plaid the whore.
191A.23	 ‘Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword,
	 That is made of the mettle so fine,
	 And when thou comst to the border-side,
	 Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime.’

191B: Hughie Graham

191B.1	 OUR lords are to the mountains gane,
	 A hunting o the fallow deer,
	 And they hae gripet Hughie Graham,
	 For stealing o the bishop’s mare.
191B.2	 And they hae tied him hand and foot,
	 And led him up thro Stirling town;
	 The lads and lasses met him there,
	 Cried, Hughie Graham, thou art a loun!
191B.3	 ‘O lowse my right hand free,’ he says,
	 ‘And put my braid sword in the same,
	 He’s no in Stirling town this day
	 Daur tell the tale to Hughie Graham.’
191B.4	 Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord,
	 As he sat by the bishop’s knee:
	 ‘Five hundred white stots I’ll gie you,
	 If ye’ll let Hughie Graham gae free.’
191B.5	 ‘O haud your tongue,’ the bishop says,
	 ‘And wi your pleading let me be!
	 For tho ten Grahams were in his coat,
	 Highie Graham this day shall die.’
191B.6	 Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord,
	 As she sat by the bishop’s knee:
	 ‘Five hundred white pence I’ll gee you,
	 If ye’ll gie Hughie Graham to me.’
191B.7	 ‘O haud your tongue now, lady fair,
	 And wi your pleading let it be!
	 Altho ten Grahams were in his coat,
	 It’s for my honour he maun die.’
191B.8	 They’ve taen him to the gallows-knowe,
	 He looked to the gallows-tree,
	 Yet never colour left his cheek,
	 Nor ever did he blink his ee.
191B.9	 At length he looked round about,
	 To see whatever he could spy,
	 And there he saw his auld father,
	 And he was weeping bitterly.
191B.10	 ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,
	 And wi your weeping let it be!
	 Thy weeping’s sairer on my heart
	 Than a’ that they can do to me.
191B.11	 ‘And ye may gie my brother John
	 My sword that’s bent in the middle clear,
	 And let him come at twelve o’clock,
	 And see me pay the bishop’s mare.
191B.12	 ‘And ye may gie my brother James
	 My sword that’s bent in the middle brown,
	 And bid him come at four o’clock,
	 And see his brother High cut down.
191B.13	 ‘Remember me to Maggy my wife,
	 The niest time ye gang oer the moor;
	 Tell her, she staw the bishop’s mare,
	 Tell her, she was the bishop’s whore.
191B.14	 ‘And ye may tell my kith and kin
	 I never did disgrace their blood,
	 And when they meet the bishop’s cloak,
	 To mak it shorter by the hood.’

191C: Hughie Graham

191C.1	 GUDE Lord Scroope’s to the hunting gane,
	 He has ridden oer moss and muir,
	 And he has grippet Hughie the Gra+eme,
	 For stealing o the bishop’s mare.
191C.2	 ‘Now, good Lord Scroope, this may not be!
	 Here hangs a broad sword by my side,
	 And if that thou canst conquer me,
	 The matter it may soon be tryed.’
191C.3	 ‘I neer was afraid of a traitor thief;
	 Although thy name be Hughie the Gra+eme,
	 I’ll make thee repent thee of thy deeds,
	 If God but grant me life and time.’
191C.4	 ‘Then do your worst now, goo Lord Scroope,
	 And deal your blows as hard as you can;
	 It shall be tried, within an hour,
	 Which of us two is the better man.’
191C.5	 But as they were dealing their blows so free,
	 And both so bloody ay the time,
	 Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall,
	 All for to take brave Hughie the Gra+eme.
191C.6	 Then they hae grippit Hughie the Gra+eme,
	 And brought him up through Carlisle town;
	 The lasses and lads stood on the walls,
	 Crying, Hughie the Gra+eme, thou’se neer gae down!
191C.7	 Then they hae chosen a jury of men,
	 The best that were in Carlisle town,
	 And twelve of them cried out at once,
	 Hughie the Gra+eme, thou must gae down!
191C.8	 Then up bespak him gude Lord Hume,
	 As he sat by the judge’s knee:
	 ‘Twenty white owsen, my gude lord,
	 If you’ll grant Hughie the Gra+eme to me.’
191C.9	 ‘O no, O no, my gude Lord Hume,
	 Forsooth and sae it mauna be;
	 For were there but three Gra+emes of the name,
	 They suld be hanged a’ for me.’
191C.10	 RR’rrtwas up and spake the gude Lady Hume,
	 As she sat by the judge’s knee:
	 ‘A peck of white pennies, my good lord judge,
	 If you’ll grant Hughie the Gra+eme to me.’
191C.11	 ‘O no, O no, my gude Lady Hume,
	 Forsooth and so ti mustna be;
	 Were he but the one Gra+eme of the name,
	 He suld be hanged high for me.’
191C.12	 ‘If I be guilty,’ said Hughie the Gra+eme,
	 ‘Of me my friends shall hae small talk;’
	 And he has loupd fifteen feet and three,
	 Though his hands they were tied behind his back.
191C.13	 He looked over his left shoulder,
	 And for to see what he might see;
	 There was he aware of his auld father,
	 Came tearing his hair most piteouslie.
191C.14	 ‘O hald your tongue, my father,’ he says,
	 ‘And see that ye dinna weep for me!
	 For they may ravish me of my life,
	 But they canna banish me fro heaven hie.
191C.15	 ‘Fare ye weel, fair Maggie, my wife!
	 The last time we came ower the muir
	 ’Twas thou bereft me of my life,
	 And wi the bishop thou playd the whore.
191C.16	 ‘Here, Johnnie Armstrang, take thou my sword,
	 That is made o the metal sae fine,
	 And when thou comest to the English side
	 Remember the death of Hughie the Gra+eme.’

191D: Hughie Graham

191D.1	 GOOD Lord John is a hunting gone,
	 Over the hills and dales so far,
	 For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime,
	 For stealing of the bishop’s mare.
	 He derry derry down
191D.2	 Hugh in the Grime was taken then
	 And carried to Carlisle town;
	 The merry women came out amain,
	 Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down!
191D.3	 O then a jury of women was brought,
	 Of the best that could be found;
	 Eleven of them spoke all at once,
	 Saying, The name of Grime shall never go down!
191D.4	 And then a jury of men was brought,
	 More the pity for to be!
	 Eleven of them spoke all at once,
	 Saying, Hugh in the Grime, you are guilty.
191D.5	 Hugh in the Grime was cast to be hangd,
	 Many of his friends did for him lack;
	 For fifteen foot in the prisin he did jump,
	 With his hands tyed fast behind his back.
191D.6	 Then bespoke our good Lady Ward,
	 As she set on the bench so high:
	 ‘A peck of white pennys I’ll give to my lord,
	 If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.
191D.7	 ‘And if it be not full enough,
	 I’ll stroke it up with my silver fan;
	 And if it be not full enough,
	 I’ll heap it up with my own hand.’
191D.8	 ‘Hold your tongue now, Lady Ward,
	 And of your talkitive let it be!
	 There is never a Grime came in this court
	 That at thy bidding shall saved be.’
191D.9	 Then bespoke our good Lady Moor,
	 As she sat on the bench so high:
	 ‘A yoke of fat oxen I’ll give to my lord,
	 If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.’
191D.10	 ‘Hold your tongue now, good Lady Moor,
	 And of your talkitive let it be!
	 There is never a Grime came to this court
	 That at thy bidding shall saved be.’
191D.11	 Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out of the door,
	 With his hand out of the bar;
	 There he spy’d his father dear,
	 Tearing of his golden hair.
191D.12	 ‘Hold your tongue, good father dear,
	 And of your weeping let it be!
	 For if they bereave me of my life,
	 They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.’
191D.13	 Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out at the door,
	 Oh, what a sorry heart had he!
	 There [he] spy’d his mother dear,
	 Weeping and wailing ‘Oh, woe is me!’
191D.14	 Hold your tongue now, mother dear,
	 And of your weeping let it be!
	 For if they bereave me of my life,
	 They cannot bereave me of heaven’s fee.
191D.15	 ‘I’ll leave my sword to Johnny Armstrong
	 That is made of mettal so fine,
	 That when he comes to the border-side
	 He may think of Hugh in the Grime.’

191E: Hughie Graham

191E.1	 LORD HOME he is a hunting gane,
	 Through the woods and valleys clear,
	 And he has taen Sir Hugh the Gra+eme,
	 For stealing o the bishop’s mare.
191E.2	 They hae taen Sir Hugh the Gra+eme,
	 Led him down thro Strieveling town;
	 Fifeteen o them cried a’ at ance,
	 ‘Sir Hugh the Gra+eme he must go down!’
191E.3	 They hae causd a court to sit,
	 Mang a’ their best nobilitie;
	 Fifeteen o them cried a’ at ance,
	 Sir Hugh the Gra+eme he now must die!’
191E.4	 Out is speaks the lady Black,
	 And o her will she was right free:
	 ‘A thousand pounds, my lord, I’ll gie,
	 If Hugh the Gra+eme set free to me.’
191E.5	 ‘Hold your tongue, ye Lady Black,
	 And ye’ll let a’ your pleadings be!
	 Though ye woud gie me thousands ten,
	 It’s for my honour he must die.’
191E.6	 Then out it speaks her Lady Bruce,
	 And o her will she was right free:
	 ‘A hundred steeds, my lord, I’ll gie,
	 If ye’ll gie Hugh the Gra+eme to me.’
191E.7	 ‘O hold your tongue, ye Lady Bruce,
	 And ye’ll let a’ your pleadings be!
	 Though a’ the Gra+emes were in this court,
	 It’s for my honour he must die.’
191E.8	 He looked over his shoulder,
	 It was to see what he coud see,
	 And there he saw his auld father,
	 Weeping and wailing bitterlie.
191E.9	 ‘O hold your tongue, my old father,
	 And ye’ll let a’ your mourning be!
	 Though they bereave me o my life,
	 They canno had the heavens frae me.
191E.10	 ‘Ye’ll gie my brother John the sword
	 That’s pointed wi the metal clear,
	 And bid him come at eight o’clock,
	 And see me pay the bishop’s mare.
191E.11	 ‘And, brother James, take here the sword
	 That’s pointed wi the metal brown;
	 Come up the morn at eight o’clock,
	 And see your brother putten down.
191E.12	 ‘And, brother Allan, take this sword
	 That’s pointed wi the metal fine;
	 Come up the morn at eight o’clock,
	 And see the death o Hugh the Gra+eme.
191E.13	 ‘Ye’ll tell this news to Maggy my wife,
	 Niest time ye gang to Strievling town,
	 She is the cause I lose my life,
	 She wi the bishop playd the loon.’
191E.14	 Again he ower his shoulder lookd,
	 It was to see what he could see,
	 And there he saw his little son,
	 Was screaming by his nourice knee.
191E.15	 Then out it spake the little son,
	 ‘Since ’tis the morn that he must die,
	 If that I live to be a man,
	 My father’s death revengd shall be.’
191E.16	 ‘If I must die,’ Sir Hugh replied,
	 ‘My friends o me they will think lack;’
	 He leapd a wa eighteen feet high,
	 Wi his hands bound behind his back.
191E.17	 Lord Home then raised ten armed men,
	 And after him they did pursue;
	 But he has trudged ower the plain
	 As fast as ony bird that flew.
191E.18	 He looked ower his left shoulder,
	 It was to see what he coud see;
	 His brother John was at his back,
	 And a’ thee rest o his brothers three.
191E.19	 Some they wound, and some they slew,
	 They fought sae fierce and valiantly;
	 They made his enemies for to yield,
	 And sent Sir Hugh out ower the sea.

191F: Hughie Graham

191F.1	 ‘YE may tell to my wife Maggie,
	 When that she comes to the fair,
	 She was the cause of all my ruin,
	 It was her that stole the bishop’s mare.
191F.2	 ‘Ye may tell to my wife Maggie,
	 When that she comes to the town,
	 She was the cause of all my ruin,
	 It was her that stole the bishop’s gown.’

191G: Hughie Graham

191G.1	 DUKES an lords a huntin gane,
	 Over hills an vallies clear;
	 There the’ve bound him Hughie Grame,
	 For stealin o the bishop’s mare.

191[H]: Hughie Graham

191[H].1	Lairds and lords a hounting gane,
	 Out-over hills and valleys clear,
	 And there they met Hughie Grame,
	 Was riding on the bishop’s mare.
191[H.2]	And they have tied him hand and foot,
	 And they have carried him to Stirling town;
	 The lads and lasses there about
	 Crys, Hughie Grame, you are a lown!
191[H.3]	‘If I be a lown,’ says he,
	 ‘I am sure my friends has had bad luck;’
	 We that he jumpted fifteen foot,
	 With his hands tied behind his back.
191[H.4]	Out and spoke Laidy Whiteford,
	 As she sat by the bishop’s knee;
	 ‘Four-and-twenty milk-kie I’ll give to thee,
	 If Hughie Grame you will let free.’
191[H.5]	‘Hold your tongue, my laidy Whiteford,
	 And of your pleading now lay by;
	 If fifty Grames were in his coat,
	 Upon my honour he shall die.’
191[H.6]	Out and spoke Lord Whiteford,
	 As he sat by the bishop’s knee;
	 ‘Four-and-twenty stots I’ll give thee,
	 If Hughie Grame you will let free.’
191[H.7]	‘Hold your tongue, my lord Whiteford,
	 And of your pleading now lay by;
	 If twenty Grames were in his coat,
	 Upon my honour he shall die.’
191[H.8]	‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,
	 The first time she comes through the mu[ir],
	 She was the causer of my death,
	 For with the bishop [she] plaid the whore.
191[H.9]	‘You may tell to Meg, my wife,
	 The first time she comes through the town,
	 She was the causer of my death,
	 For with the bishop [she ] plaid the lown.’
191[H.10]	He looked oer his left shoulder,
	 To see what he could spy or see,
	 And there he spied his old father,
	 Was weeping bitterly.
191[H.11]	‘Hold your tongue, my dear father,
	 And of your weeping now lay by;
	 They may rub me of my sweet life,
	 But not from me the heavence high.
191[H.12]	‘You may give my brother John
	 The sword that’s of the mettle clear,
	 That he may come the morn at four o clock
	 To see me pay the bishop’s mare.
191[H.13]	‘You may give my brother James
	 The sword that’s of the mettle brown;
	 Tell him to come the morn at four o clock
	 To see his brother Hugh cut down.’
191[H.14]	Up and spoke his oldest son,
	 As he sat by his nurse’s knee;
	 ‘If ere I come to be a man,
	 Revenged for my father[’s] death I’ll be.’

191[I]: Hughie Graham

191[I].1	Ye dukes and lords that hunt and go
	 Out-over moors and mountains clear,
	 And they have taen up poor Hughie Gra+eme,
	 For stealing of the bishope’s mare.
110[I.1b]	Fall all the day, fall all the daudy,
	 Fall all the day, fall the daudy O.
191[I.2]	They hae tied him hand and foot,
	 They hae led him thro the town;
	 The lads and lassies they all met,
	 Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, ye’ve playd the loon!
191[I.3]	‘O if that I had playd the loon,
	 My friends of me they hae bad luck;’
	 With that he jumped fifteen feet,
	 Wi his hands tied fast behind his back.
191[I.4]	Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,
	 As she sat by the bishope’s knee;
	 ‘Five hundred white pence I’ll give thee,
	 If you let Hughie Gra+eme go free.’
191[I.5]	‘I’ll hae nane of your hundred pense,
	 And your presents you may lay by;
	 For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat,
	 By my honour, Hugh shall die.’
191[I.6]	Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,
	 As he sat by the bishope’s knee;
	 ‘Five score of good stotts I’ll thee give,
	 If you’ll sett Hughie Gra+eme but free.’
191[I.7]	‘I’ll have none of your hundred stotts,
	 And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;
	 ‘For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat
	 Hugh shall die, and die he shall.’
191[I.8]	Then they hae tied him hand and foot,
	 And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;
	 The lads and lassies they all met,
	 Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, thou art to die!
191[I.9]	Now’s he looked oer his left shoulder,
	 All for to see what he could spy,
	 And there he saw his father dear,
	 Stood weeping there most bitterlie.
191[I.10]	‘O hold your tongue now, father,’ he said,
	 ‘And of your weeping lai’d now by;
	 For they can rob me of my life,
	 But they cannot rob me of the heavens high.
191[I.11]	‘But you must give to my brother John
	 The sword that’s bent in the middle clear,
	 And tell him to come at twelve o clock
	 And see me pay the bishope’s mare.
191[I.12]	‘And you may give to my brother James
	 The sword that’s bent in the middle brown,
	 And tell him to come at four o clock
	 And see his brother Hugh cut down.
191[I.13]	‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,
	 The first time she comes thro the town,
	 She was the occasion of my death
	 And wi the bishope playd the loon.
191[I.14]	‘And you may tell to Meg, my wife,
	 The first time she comes thro the fair,
	 She was the occasion of my death,
	 And from the bishope stole the mare.’